Godzilla
by clair beaubien
Summary: repost of Ch2 & Ch3 of my story God's Forgottens. AU: When Sam came back from hell, he found a friend in an old bartender. They meet up again a year later.
1. God's Forgottens Ch2

A/N: This is the 2nd chapter of my story "God's Forgottens" The first chapter has moved on. I turned it into a "real" story and published it on Amazon for Kindle. It's still called God's Forgottens and it's under my real name Lougen.

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Godzilla.

Ain't no crowd big enough not to notice him standing square in the middle of it.

I was at the flea market. Fire trap, the old woman calls it, on account'a it's got forty thousand square feet of looking around and not but one way of get the hell out. So she won't go. I go. First time there I got the name of my old old lady tattooed over so's my now old lady only knows I only got a damn 8-Ball inked on my shoulder blade. Another time risking my life here, I found an actual working eight track tape player. I don't go often, but I go.

This day of any day I coulda been there, I run across Godzilla.

Might not've recognized him if looking at him didn't take my eyes halfway up the ceiling. He was as clean as his Soccer Dad friend was that night he marched himself right in and marched Godzilla right back out again. Clean clothes and not a single rip or cut or bloodstain anywhere in 'em. Good boots, not the broken-so-bad-ain't-water-gettin'-in? pair he had himself when he was haunting my bar. Fact was, he was clean and so shining bright, I double-took myself a couple times wondering if I ought maybe shouldn't bother him. Godzilla clean is still Godzilla. Mercy still don't cross him and Godzilla ain't even there no more to be crossed.

So I give myself a minute while I give him a look-see over once.

He was admiring at a bunch of books, old books, older'n me anyway, and that's old. He was running his finger along the spines like he could tell just by the feel of them did he need them up close and personal or not and I was getting my first look-see of him with knuckles not busted open on some other hard head that got too close, with his back not married to the wall to not be blindsided.

And I double took again to wonder should I maybe keep going or was him being that relaxed okay to bust in on? Been near a year since Soccer Dad washed him outta my place, could be he wouldn't know me no more. Wasn't like we ever busted our gums together anyhow. Was mostly money put down and whiskey picked up. 'Cause my Grandma used to say 'sow the wind, reap the wild wind, ' and no way was I ever risking reaping Godzilla's wildwind.

Being fair though, he got niceness in him. He's never mean to somebody wasn't mean first. A person nice to him got nice given back, sometimes outta two hands. One time he asked was I ok after the old woman laid me open with a beer bottle. He done even put the stitches in and took 'em out again n'wouldn't even take a drink on the house for it neither. But them's combat conditions. This weren't.

Still – I got me a wanting to know how things were with him. Might be whatever had him pinned to my bar had let him up and got left behind. If that were it, I sure wanted to know what up and done it for him 'cause I sure needed me a tall glass of that.

I just about decided I'd take me the chance and 'hallo' him when he took him a look over the bookshelf he was at and barked at somebody I couldn't see.

"You want it so bad, carry it yourself."

I had to think on was that was the most I'd ever heard him say all in one breath. Might be it coulda been.

"But Sammy – c'mon." Whoever he was barking at was doing some barking back.

And then there was Soccer Dad, coming up from around the bookshelf. He was looking at Godzilla and he was talking to Godzilla which was meaning that he was calling Godzilla Sammy.

Didn't that take me two bits of a minute to wrangle the sense out of it. Godzilla's name's Sammy? Well, let the dog piss out the fire 'cause this hootenanny is over. Me, I was thinking he'd be named 'Rock' or 'Iron' or 'Widow Maker'. Not Sammy. The only Sammy I known about's the old woman's niece's grandbaby. No way I ain't never expected eight feet of granite to be called Sammy.

I guess I musta snickered on it or something and it brought Soccer Dad's squares down on me. I saw him go stiff and pissed and his eyes demanding why I was staring at Sammy. Like I been thinking when I laid my squares on him that once and forever, he might be all shined up pretty, but damn if I didn't see deadly in that look what were trying to scour the back of my skull out through my eyeballs.

Godzilla saw the change in Soccer Dad, and he drove his squares just the same at me, fixed, cold, and murderous right here right now.

There ain't been a lot in my life that give me chills. Them two settin' their squares on me done it. I was three yards from them and my everlastin' reward, and the place's single get the hell out was clear the other side of the building. I could run or I could die. Or I could do both.

Then Godzilla's face opened right up.

"Hey!" He smacked Soccer Dad on the arm with the back of his hand and pointed me. "Hey – it's Pete."

He broke the distance between me and him in two steps practical and looked like he was getting set to meet up with his best friend. I couldn't bring my mind to remember even once me telling him my name and he was all up and acting like him and me was old, good acquaintances.

"Pete?" Soccer Dad was asking at Godzilla, walking closer to me but to the side, taking a kind of flank position on me.

"From the bar you found me at. Hey! Hi! How are you?"

I gotta tell you, I'd been expecting a nod, a grunt, maybe a knuckle punch if Godzilla'd been in a real outgoing mood. Weren't no way I was expecting – this. I was so outta ever having this that I weren't exact sure what name this oughtta be wearing.

"Still wearing my own skin. Reckon that's a win."

He grinned when I said it. Grinned. And ten-fifteen years just up and ran off his face. Ever'body ever set up shop in my place is all the same age – too old. Even Godzilla too. Seen too much, done too much, lived too much, too old. But here he was turning all over into a Baby Godzilla he was all of a sudden looking so blamed young.

"Hey, this is my brother, Dean. Dean this is Pete. He kinda watched out for me when I first got to his place."

Watched out for him? I recollected that first drizzlin' night a'him settin' his butt on my bar stool, and me puttin' a coffee down by his hand after the twenty minutes he spent staring down his third whiskey, not drinking it, only trying to boil it with his eyes seemed like maybe. And that one night later he come in busted up and drinking hard and muttering he's doing the right thing not letting somebody know something, and when he couldn't tell was he on the floor or was he on the ceiling, I pushed him onto the mattress in the back room to let him 'Z' where wouldn't nobody die by bothering him.

Was that 'watching out for him'?

Godzilla – no. Sammy? Sure did maybe seem like.

"Yeah, I kept the easy fish outta his way so's he'd always be sure of a challenge." Is the words come outta my mouth.

Godzilla kept grinning. He was all up and happy. Dean was taking his own sweet time though, looking ready to rumble. One thing scarier'n Godzilla sure gotta be Godzilla's big brother. And yeah don't tell me Dean ain't Sammy's BIG brother. That dead-on stare he was toastin' me with sure don't get stared by nobody ain't got thumping rights against whatever thinks to come up agin them and their own. I was being reckoned and I was reckoned owing.

"How's Eyeball?" Godzilla just kept on, like he didn't care a shake that what Rumble was cogitating on seemed to be 'how to do this fish a harm'.

"Still missin' his Mama. Spends more time out to her burying hole than to anyplace else." Which brought something else out to my mind. "You remember Trank? Liked to sharpen the points on the darts on his shoe? He done tried to check himself out. Was at a shelter, worker lady there found him hanging off a coat hook with the new socks she done just give him that morning. He's at County now, don't nothing work no more on him, he done too much damage to himself."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Godzilla said, even sounding like he meant it. So I told him some more.

"Knife got sent up. You 'member Shirl? His old woman Shirl? Said he caught her workin' when she swore him three sides outta two she done give that up. Maybe she did, maybe she didn't, won't be we'll ever know. But Knife, you know him loving those blades the way he done…well - took 'em near a week and a half to put all her parts back together, to be sure they had 'em all."

"Oh my God." Godzilla looked actual sick and hurt. His hands moved up his arms and down again – and agin - like he was feeling the blades all by his own. "She didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve to die that way. Oh God."

I gave a glance to Rumble, and he was giving Godzilla a look that woulda put even Eyeball's Mama to shame. He was hurting that Godzilla was hurting.

"Sammy?" and he put his hand out, laying it on between Godzilla's shoulder blades. I seen Godzilla put a guy into a wall for doing that to him once. This time though, you could see that hand _was_ the wall and it was for sure near holding him up.

"Yeah. I – yeah. Yeah."

Guess I ought not'a told him. Didn't know it'd run him so raw.

"Well, you fellas're busy, don't mean to hold you here. I gotta get home to the old woman 'fore she signs another bottle with my name."

I near offered they should stop by the place for old times, but it'd be a mistake. Not that Godzilla wouldn't be ballyhooed by the regulars, not that Rumble couldn't hold his own, even without him. But it just didn't sit right somehow to have them there. The place was dark and dirt. People what showed up there, showed up 'cause they was lost. They come 'cause they was lost, they stayed 'cause they was angry, and they left 'cause they was dead. These fellas oughtta have more than that.

Turning and going was my next chore, but Godzilla took a step closer, dragging a scrap of paper outta his pocket and making Rumble the 'gimme a pencil' motion.

"Take my phone number. In case – in case you ever need anything."

He printed it out and handed it over and handed the pen back to Rumble who squared him with a look that said he done the right thing giving me it.

Might be I could leave 'em with one good thought.

"You 'member Harley?"

"Yeah…"

He drawed that answer out like he's afraid of what comes next.

"Couple days after you fellas pulled out, he gets to telling me he's got a baby brother down there to Florida. They ain't put squares on each other since Skylab fell I guess." Which was probably for sure before these fellas first seen the light of day. "One day he says he give him a call and next thing I knew, not two whole full days later, in he walks, the baby brother. He's a optician down there in Lazy Lakes, or wherever he lives. Optician, optomon, opt-something. He come looking to find Harley, and they done set and talk until you'd think there couldn't be no more talking to be done and then they done talk some more. By the week's end, Harley come in, looking good and spiffed and says his baby brother is taking home. Home, he says it like it was some holy thing. And off he went. And off he stays. He sends postcards, he come back for Shirl's service. Looking good, you know? Looking like he ain't waiting just to die no more."

Godzilla and Rumble both were looking at me like what I was talking meant more than I knew, more maybe than I was ever gonna know.

"Anyway – I think that all happened on account'a you fellas. Reminded him family don't wash out. Gave him hope, you know? And sure enough, God remembered him agin. You fellas done that."

So that got Godzilla to smiling again, Rumble too, and I felt as puffed as I ever remembered feeling.

"Well, you fellas keep close and take care a'yourselves."

"You too, Pete."

I commenced to find my way to the 'get the hell out', and getting there, I pulled my wallet out to put Godzilla's paper scrap safe away.

And my squares lit on the picture of my baby sister I kept there. Her high school grad picture that was a good thirty some years before and near the last time I squared her.

It made me hafta get to thinking.

Rumble come huntin' to find Godzilla. Baby Brother sure come flying to find Harley. Might be God don't forget us. Might be He just wants us to do some rememberin' of our own first.

I decided to find me a phone.

The End


	2. God's Forgottens Ch3

A/N: This is the 3rd chapter of my story "God's Forgottens" The first chapter has moved on. I turned it into a "real" story and published it on Amazon for Kindle. It's still called God's Forgottens and it's under my real name Lougen.

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I gotta tell you, that paper scrap just about burned my fingers raw. Do I? Don't I? What's the worse could come of it, I ask myself. Well – pissin' off Godzilla's the worse could come of it and that might could be the worse could come of pritnear close about anything, now couldn't it? But – Mercy was failing fast and near about all he been saying for most of a day and a night straight was 'zilla'. I got me my faults, but hindering a dying man ain't never been one of 'em.

So, when Harley come on up and in to visit with Mercy, I borrowed me his walk-with-it phone and went out and down to where using it wouldn't bring no nurse's squares down on me and get me tossed in the hoosegow. Then I dialed me Godzilla's number and held my breath while it got to ringing on his end.

Gimme something to fight, or hate, or beat, and I'm on it. Gimme a good deed to make n' have happen and I might rather I was a troll back in 'Nam.

"Hello?" sounded in my ear and I couldn't tell rightly was it Godzilla or was it Rumble, so it was on me to ask,

"Is Sammy there?" and when I said it I took me to looking for a water fountain 'cause the saying of it left me dry of a sudden.

"This is _Sam_." He said back. He were clarifying me, not spiting me. I wondered why not 'Sammy'?

"Hey – uh – hey. This is – uh – Pete. Y'know? From – the bar? Y'know?"

I cleared me a sniper nest once and it cost me two toes, half an ear lobe and nowhere near the panic I was feeling me now.

"Pete! Hey! How're you doing?" It was five-six months gone since we squared each other last and I weren't expecting the liveliness he give to halloing me.

"Um – well – it's Mercy. He got himself real sick bad and he's – well – he's near to cashing his check. It's been he's callin' for you though, and I got me the thought -."

"Dying? Mercy's dying? No – how? What happened?"

"He – uh – he done got himself rabies. Didn't know it 'til it was gone too late. Y'know? Kept thinking it was the flu or something like that. Now – well, now's just too late."

'Rabies? He got bit by a dog? Why didn't he get it looked at?"

I could hear he was sounding troubled, caring on Mercy though it'd been the high side of a year and four bits since he'd squared him.

As I was pouring out the bad news, I walked me past the lobby part of the hospital building and outside to the cold and private.

"No, no dog he ever mentioned. People here to the hospital didn't find no bite marks on him. But sure's eggs is eggs, he done got him rabies."

"Well – can't they do anything? I mean - he's in the hospital. Don't they – can't they – do something?"

"They keep him quiet." I told him. "Keep him strung off to them painkillers and such. You know? First it was 'just the flu', then they figured him on too much liquor, then they got their brights on the notion he was cracking up on account a'cause all the things he says he was seeing. Now they got the clue, it's just all of 'em waiting on him to clear the bed."

I got me a deep and fuming huff over the phone for my answer. Godzilla was pissed.

"That's – that's just – that's just not right. Where is he? At County there? Okay. Okay."

The way he was spending his words, I got me a picture in my head that he was looking around him, formulating plans.

"I'm not with Dean right now. We're meeting up in a half hour. We're just – I'll just – we can be there tomorrow afternoon. Is he – will he hang on that long, do you think? We could maybe get there sooner -."

He was sounding him pissed and concerned and desperate. I didn't need desperate hightailing it over the highways on my say-so.

"You listen to me – you get here when you get here, he'll last. I done lost me enough of what I got left of folks. Don't need you marking a stain on the interstate. You hear me?"

And damned if Godzilla didn't gimme a 'Yessir', all done up & nice & actual meaning it. I ain't been 'yessired' since I don't remember when. And maybe not even then. And it being Godzilla –

"All right then." I tells him, wondering where the wobble in my throat done come from of a sudden. "He's in 402. They put him private on account'a being maybe contagious of some sort. His right name's Houston, so's you can find him. Merced Houston."

"We'll be there. I'll call Dean and we'll – get this wrapped up here. You call me, all right? If anything changes, you call me. You tell Mercy I'm coming. And – call me."

So, we split up agin and I went back to Mercy and tried not counting me the hours until tomorrow afternoon.

Me and Harley took turns napping out on the packing crate they's calling a sofa in the waiting room, and it sure weren't no afternoon when into Mercy's room walks Godzilla and Rumble. They's tall and wide and sporting suits like they's people important in the world. Might be I didn't know much about Godzilla afore, but for sure I was knowing even less about him now. Was they lawyers or such? I couldn't bring a right choice into focus.

"How is he?" Godzilla skipped him the hallos and marched him right to the bed. Mercy was yellowed and looking crackled, wheezing under the breathing mask, squares tight, but the twitches and not knowing nothing quit for the bit.

"Holding on. Told you he'd be. Done also told you to not risk your fool neck getting yourself here."

Godzilla squared me an apology, but not taking more'n a few bits of time from seeing to Mercy.

"Dean." He said by way to explaining, and I got it. Just that said it all for me and didn't need no more, but he clarified me anyhow, "He drove all night to get us here."

I give a glance to Rumble filling up the doorway. He was squaring Godzilla and nobody else.

"'Preciate you having to give up something important to get here." I said to him, either of 'em. I figured I oughta had to. But Rumble squared me a question and I made a wave to his gear. "Y'coulda took time to change."

"This?" He made a wave of his fancy tie and shrugged. "When you want things to happen in a hospital, a suit helps."

Ain't that the God's Honest. Nobodies from Nowhere get Nothing. Put a suit on it and people snap to.

"What're you planning getting t'happen?" I asked to Rumble 'fore I was thinking had I ought to ask him. I was thinking we only now just said one word to the other, n'just 'cause Godzilla could be easy with him, wasn't saying anybody could be.

But Rumble grinned n'shrugged me a foreswear.

"Y'never know."

I decided he might could be a right fella after all.

"Hey – Mercy. Can you hear me?" Godzilla was leaning himself down over the bed, and that was a ways down to go. "I'm here."

Mercy n' Godzilla weren't never best buds or nothing. I ain't sure they ever spoke more'n a word or two a day at each other. And most a'that come with bristles like two dogs circling a bone. Guess that all done been forgot now, 'cause one yellow, crackled, bony hand come up and off and from that mattress and found a way to one of those wide, bowed shoulders.

"Zilla?"

That made me hold my breath. Calling Godzilla 'Godzilla' - well, I sure ain't never let on how he was called around the place. Not straight to him. But he only just wrapped one huge paw around the brittle bones what used to be Mercy's hand there on his shoulder and leaned him down even a little bit closer.

"It's me, Mercy. I'm here. Pete called me."

I didn't hear nothing but must be Mercy done said something on accounta 'cause Godzilla leaned him down even more.

"I'm sorry, Mercy. What? I couldn't -."

And a little louder and a little longer and a little bit later Godzilla straightened him back up and turned to Rumble.

"Dean?"

In my life I known me morse code and semiphores and five different ways for to get a pitcher to give me a fast ball. But that one word, _Dean_, was about the shortest code I ever rolled up against. 'Cause that one word, and Rumble squared me a look that was even up to inviting.

"Hey, Pete. What d'you say I buy you come coffee? Give Sammy a chance to catch up with Mercy."

I sure couldn't figure what catching up could be done with a man half gone to glory already, but it wouldn't be me would naysay anything Rumble got him a notion to say to my face.

"Yeah. Sure. Preciate it."

He nodded n'even give me a grin like I done him a favor and then looked back to Godzilla.

"Sammy?"

I gotta tell you, it still quirked me to know that somewhere under all that Godzilla, somewhere in there, there was a _Sammy_ clomping around. Though right this here minute, with him being soft and respectful and caring of Mercy, all I was seeing was Sammy, and no Godzilla at all.

Anybuts, like that Dean a second ago that packed a whole sentence into four itty bitty letters, that Sammy was sure its own interrogate spun off like a penny. 'Cause Sammy answered,

"Fifteen minutes?"

"Right. Pete?"

So we commenced to break the distance to the closest coffee pot which was near to the packing crate Harley was having him his turn at not sleeping on. We didn't gain but a square or two of floor tile though when she come bustling on into our here and now. Ms. _'God gimme His job only He don't know it yet_.' I calls her Cruella.

"Hello, Mr. Logan." She always done sound like she's real glad to be unhappy.

"Ms. Lang."

"And how is Mr. Houston this morning?" She quoted her questions like she's taking the census. Don't care nothing for the people she's marking on, only that can she mark on them. Couldn't be she'd even bother to square Mercy for herself.

"Still alive." I had it on my mind to add 'sorry' to the words, but might be she'd probably think I was apologizing serious and not sniping her. I knew she wanted him gone and yesterday.

"And who's this?" She made to ask me about Rumble, sounding like she was up to reckoning him and was already deciding to reckon him owing. Just as I was mixing up an answer what I might give her, Rumble pulled a flip pad outta his pocket and clicked him a pen and asked her back,

"Who are _you_?"

Ha. Didn't that put her back on her squat heels. Somebody done asked her a question? Like she's up and gotta prove something? Ha.

"I'm Barbara Lang. I'm Mr. Houston's caseworker." She laid out her whole quarrel right there in them words, like it were her golden carpet and we was supposed to sweep ourselves right outta her way on account'a 'em.

Now, my Grandma raised me to respect me every woman I had me the privilege to chance on, but right then I really wanted me another drink of water so's I could spit on this one proper. Rumble only _'hmm'd'_ and commenced to writing something with that pen on that flip pad.

Then her squares squared Godzilla and I seen a nasty light light up inside 'em and I felt me and Rumble bristling the right same time and for the right same reason - right this here minute, squaring Godzilla was squaring Sammy and no way was we having that.

"Sir, please don't do that." She pegged on over on them big feet and little shoes right towards Godzilla, who weren't doing nothing but standing over Mercy, still holding that fragile hand all in his own. I known what she was sniping on, but I didn't say nothing. Let her learn all by her lonesome what sniping Sam might light up inside his big brother.

Godzilla's paying her no mind no how anyhow so she went and stubs her stubby little finger into his arm and says it again.

"_Sir_, please don't do that. We prefer that friends and family don't touch Mr. Houston."

Godzilla squared her puzzlement and then some.

"Trust me, he's got nothing I can catch."

She huffed her huff and stubbed them stubby hands on her hips and looked up to him like she were trying to find the sun in the sky.

"We feel that physical contact disturbs Mr. Houston. That he will pass on more easily if no one touches him."

Yeah, that was the line she'd been trawling me and Harley with for awhile and I done give up trying to argue her back. It's been a lotta times in my life I done been robbed a'words by what I witnessed, folks being cruel or dumb or mean - and once or twice by brothers recommencing to be brothers. But this here beat that all with a hammer. Squaring your friend dying and leaving off on the only thing might be he'd know somebody was there? Not on my dance card, sister.

Seemed like Godzilla was having the self-same _'too stupid to talk about' _reaction to her and not saying nothing, so Rumble stepped in to the game.

"You don't want him touched so that he'll _die_ faster?"

It wasn't she liked bold, plain words. She liked covering and pretending and saying _please_ but meaning _dumbass_ and here she just run into the wall of 'say me the truth' Rumble. And spit and shine if she didn't try it again.

"We feel that Mr. Houston will pass on more easily -."

"You do know that he's a human being, don't you?" Rumble rumbled her. "He's not a number, he's not a diagnosis, he's not a piece of nothing that blew onto your doorstep. He's a man who came to this facility to receive care, and from all I can see, he's received very substandard care to this point."

It was one to those minutes that time just stops and I could read me all the faces around me. Rumble was rumbling, Cruella was blanching, Godzilla was holding Mercy's hand with both of his own and looking like God Himself couldn't put a lick of change to that. I been in stand-offs, and this was the Daddy of them all. I swear me I could hear ticking on a clock that weren't even there.

Then Rumble clicked that pen again like he were cocking a pistol. He didn't give but a look to Cruella and talked sounding like he were bored as all get out.

"Ms. Lang, is it? Ms. Lang, can you tell me this facility's Mission Statement?"

And when she said, "It on a card on my desk, I can get it." Rumble sighed him an awesome sigh, and he sounded mighty disappointed when he was saying as he wrote something more in his flip pad,

"_Doesn't know the facility's mission statement_. Okay, Ms. Lang, is it? We're going to need some time here with Mr. Houston, so if you'll excuse us."

Cruella didn't move so much as an overstuffed shoe. She was looking like in all her born days didn't never nobody not kowtow just on her say-so and having the face-up of it was sucking her peabrain dry.

I squared Godzilla and he were squaring Rumble half grateful, half wanting to laugh out loud, and mostly just thanking the Good Lord for having a brother with a brass neck.

Only when Rumble rumbled "We'll contact you when we need your statement," did Cruella peg out again on them square squat high heels what rat-tat-tatted her down the hallway and out of our here and now.

I near to asked me what those fellas actual honest do for a living but might could be the knowing of it wouldn't count a 'win' so I left it lying where I was finding it.

"Guess I'm owing you that coffee." I hung out to Rumble. "Four days I been trying to drop a house on that witch."

Rumble was squaring Godzilla a _'I'm the big brother and damn proud of it'_ look and then he squared me a _'happy to help'_ and tucked away that pen and that flip pad.

"Sammy, we'll be back."

We took ourselves down the hallway to the waiting room what got the vending machines and old magazines and the monstrous hard couch and poor Harley all to scrunched up trying to make a go of sleeping on it.

Guess that was a bust on accounta he squared us hard soon's we ever gained ground through the doorposts.

"How's he?" He asked, sitting up and putting feet on the floor, anxious and ready to fly to Mercy if that's what's required.

"Sam's with him. He was talking to Sam."

"Sam?" It wasn't did I forget Harley didn't know Godzilla by his right name, it was hoping he'd know who I meant anyhow. Guess that was a bust too.

"Yeah - uh -." I give a quick look to Rumble. Never mind I never called Godzilla 'Godzilla' to his face, was it I could call him that to his big brother's face? "Godzilla."

"Oh." Harley rubbed some sleep out of his face. "So this must be Rumble."

"Rumble?" That got the response out of Rumble. "That's one I haven't heard."

"You knowed I called your brother Godzilla?"

"Sam told me. Not much gets past him." Rumble seemed actual pleased by that thought. "Rumble he never mentioned. I'm Dean." He said to Harley.

"I'm Harley." Harley said back. "Pete here can't remember a name lessen it's got some catch to it. Won't admit to it, but there it is. Really, I'm Harlan only don't go asking Pete to remember that."

"_We come for coffee_." Was all the answer I give to that. Ever since Baby Brother up and reacquainted Harley with living 'stead of dying, he done got him a working sense of humor. He made Rumble to laugh though so's I left that snipe to where I was finding it. "Godzilla's having him a minute with Mercy."

"Yeah." Harley nodded him and said it out again like it was all the breath he had left in him. "Yeah. Glad you could make it out here." He added him to Rumble. "Never guessed that Mercy'd set such a store by your brother, but Mercy never let on much. How'd you like your coffee?"

He scooped him out some change from his pants pocket and creaked his old bones to the vending machine.

"Black, thanks."

"And I know Pete takes extra sugar."

So, two minutes gone we each had us a coffee and a sit on a chair made outta bricks and gravel, and nothing much common to jaw us about. I got the notion were it just me and Rumble, wouldn't much jawing be going on at all. Harley, bless him though, he found him a tongue down there to Florida.

"Pete says Godzilla's looking better than when you drug him by his ear outta the bar."

Rumble smiled us but was I could see a sadness underneath it.

"Yeah, he's good."

"He ain't so shiny as you are." I said to Harley. "You're taking home that prize."

"Ha! Ain't nothing wrong with being shiny, Pete. Y'oughta try it sometime. Tell him, Rumble."

Looked to me like Rumble near choked on his joe.

"Shiny? I don't know as I'd call myself shiny."

"Well then, you sure clean up good." Harley said. "So - what is it you and your brother do?"

I was watching me Rumble close on that one and couldn't be did I see even one bit of hesitating.

"We're kind of freelance, actually. We travel around and take care of people's problems for them."

There's a lot of names it come to me to lay on them dozen words, none of 'em good for mixed ner polite company. Harley though he only laughed him some.

"You mean like 'the Equalizer'?"

"Yeah." Rumble said, after giving it a thinking on for a coupla spaces. "Except I drive a cooler car."

"He drives a Jag." Harley said, saying it like somebody thought to diss his Mama.

"I drive a '67 Impala." Rumble clarifies him and don't Harley's mouth just drop splat open like Marley in Scrooge. You'da thought a nekkid woman just done dropped herself into the room.

"_Really_?"

And Rumble proceeds to give Harley an earful of all the tingly details. Me, my first car was my Grandma's Nash Rambler and never got no better, so I listened polite but over and done clueless what was being said between 'em. They'd done just finished with wax and waxing and the better and best of 'em all, and Rumble checked his watch.

"That's fifteen minutes. I have to go check on Sammy."

He tossed his empty coffee cup and took himself back to Mercy's room. Harley squared me a puzzle and tapped his ear like it was he got an earful of water somehow.

"Did I just hear that right? Did Rumble just call Godzilla _'Sammy'_?"

"You heard right. I'm of a mind though that only Rumble gets to call him that. Anybody else tries it, could be they'd find theirselves on the wrong side of the door."

He laughed, never mind I was serious. He stopped him quick though when Rumble set himself back to our doorway.

"You guys probably want to come back in there."

I think we musta broke some kinda records getting back to Mercy and his traveling to glory.

Godzilla was bowed him over, setting in a chair next to the bed, holding still onto Mercy's hand and, if I was to guess, onto his still living. But when Harley gained the room, Godzilla stood him up and reached one long arm out and swept Harley into what sure darn looked like a mighty gratifying bear hug. And it sure did look like Harley give as good as he was getting, though Harley's near to tall as a leprechaun and Godzilla's near halfway tall's forever.

"Good to see you, kid." Harley tells him. "Good you been looking out for yourself."

Godzilla huffed him a disputation on that but tilted an itty bit of a smile 'fore he settled him down to the chair again and took up Mercy's hand in the both of his own again. Me 'n Harley took up spots to the other side of the bed and Rumble no question stood him right behind his little brother. And we commenced to counting the time left us to Mercy's everlasting.

I seen men die. Hell, I seen men and women and kids all die and usually it were dying to somebody else's 'gotta happen' and that's a hell of a reason to need to die. Most were dying confused, lots were dying on angry, might could be one or a few was what you might reckon resigned to the notion.

Mercy though, the minutes ticking away the motes of his life were sure to seem to be adding back on to his being okay with it. The pinchiness unpinched, the wheeziness eased off, the ornery look of 'just try me' that I known since I known him done plumped to an actual all right happy.

And just as the beep-beep-beep commenced to the flat out beeeeeeep, telling us all the end to all our stories, just then Mercy breathes out 'I'm there', and closes his eyes and goes on ahead without us.

Rumble and Godzilla put a pin in and stayed to the memorial. Weren't no wake, weren't no fancy funeral. We come by an undertaker what cremated Mercy for a cheap that every last one of us chipped in for and Harley's baby brother made up the difference of. Once that were accomplished and Mercy was back with us in his little box and nothing more, we had us a memorial there to the bar, like we done for Shirl back the year ago or so.

Had us all there then. What all were left of what were there when Godzilla first crossed my doorstep. And that weren't much. Chainsaw – Charles Anthony Sawyer Harley grumbles at me, like I need a real name for him or anybody – he's got the go to for the bar, pulling beers and pouring whiskeys and keeping the pretzels up to snuff.

Harley's got him the table to the middle, he's king of the whole proceedings, suit and tie and a shiny black stick what looks like a caveman's skinny golf club upside down, what he calls a walking stick. Well, lah dee dah. Mercy's there, to his table, in a fancy carved wood box, on a fancy sewn and stitched circle of cloth. Wasn't Harley's baby brother could make the trip though he sure did want him to, but his baby niece was there with her intended and wasn't never did I known such kindness and pureness to ever grace the world, much less my place. It weren't no exaggeration to say that girl was all love and twice as much sunshine and she made the place shine just by being there.

Eyeball was at Harley's table, (Ivan Ballenshine, damn you anyway, Harley) looking about as lively as wet shredded wheat. Till Harley's baby niece lit on him like sunshine on a cloud and just to soon as she knowed his Mama done had the self-same name as her, Adelaida, it wasn't she could hear enough about her and there she sat and listened and listened and listened some more while Eyeball done unraveled him near to all there was to be unraveled about his Mama. By the end of it, it were he were a special invite to the wedding and weren't no _'no's'_ to be had about it and Uncle Harlan'd be the guaranteer of that to come on up with the train ticket and bring him down personal, and she'd just _cry_ if it weren't all just the way she was to have it.

My baby sister was there too, and her lousy wart of a husband who weren't so lousy after all it turned itself out. She turned out a good old gal, too, Margaret, from the skinny, pimply, moonstruck kid I last put squares on, to the happy, solid, head-on-right Grandma she was right now. Three days she spent, and her husband, and Adelaida and her intended too, cleaning my place inside out and upside down and three ways outta two into a right not bad place. And all to themselves they done put on the spread we was spreading ourselves with.

Back to a year and a half ago, this place were to a dump and no mistaking it for no place nicer. Now – now it wouldn't be I'd know the place if it came up on me of a sudden.

I give me a glance down the room to single onliest reason this _gone to hell_ done turned to as near close to paradise as a fella could get while still breathing: Sam and Dean. Not Rumble and Godzilla. It weren't Rumble and Godzilla made this place breathe. It were Sam and Dean.

They was at the far, far end of the bar, Sam to the end and Dean right flat next to him. Was each of 'em had a plate in front of 'em, Dean's most gone, and Sam's most not gone. It wasn't they was saying anything, Sam had him a look like it was he could sleep, Dean had him the look like it'd be okay if he did. While I was watching though, he leans over, Dean leans him over to shove Sam some bit with his shoulder and smiles to his puzzle like it were a private joke and Sam smiles back like he's getting the joke and I'm hoping that someday, some way, somehow, they gets made to know that looking in a mirror they's looking at miracles.

The shindig lasts most of the afternoon, till it's near our usual opening time and it isn't I want any of the good folk here running up against our regular clientele, and I started shooing 'em on out, making promises to Margaret and Adelaida to get the old woman and meet 'em on up for supper. They fussed over Eyeball till he couldn't but say 'you betcha' to supper too and ten minutes gone it was just me and Chainsaw, Sam and Dean, and Mercy.

"We'll get him to Maine." Sam said. Up he took Mercy and tucked him in to his elbow, careful and protective. "Right where the sun touches first thing every morning." Wasn't I knew every blessed thing Mercy had said to Sam that last time, but that was one of 'em. To scatter his ashes to where he used to have folks up in Maine.

"And you drive safe getting yourselves there." I thought to put the reminder on them. Probably wasn't that Dean needed it, not a reminder to be safe to his car or his brother, but wasn't I knew enough about 'em otherwise to smooth 'em something watchful.

"You gonna be okay?" Dean asked me. Wasn't that'd ever felt a million dollar question till now.

"Near to it as I can tell. Working with Chainsaw to take over the place. Maybe square me a place up to near Margaret. Harley's trying him some magic to get Eyeball to stay down to Florida with him." I shrugged me a shrug. "Long's my folks is okay, reckon as I can count me okay. So you two – stay okay."

I got me twin 'We wills' for an answer and I done escorted them all polite and serious like to the door. But afore he'd set one foot over the sill, Sam done turned back to me and afore I could think on 'what the hell?' I got myself wrapped in one of those damn long arms that held on like it were death to let go.

And that were all. No words, no 'thanks', no nothing but that grip, and then he were out the door, cradling Mercy and running that long arm under those red eyes. It was Dean stayed him a minute longer to offer over his hand.

"Keep in touch." He made me the promise of it and give me the charge of it and then it was he was out the door too, off to his gleaming car and little brother.

The end.


End file.
